Finding Yourself
by purplepeony
Summary: Blaine's thoughts while dressing for prom.


Title: Finding Yourself

Author: Cschick

Rating: K

Summary: Blaine's thoughts before prom.

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><p>Blaine stood in front of the full-length mirror, his hands automatically smoothing the almost non-existent wrinkles out of his tuxedo jacket, then settling it into place with a tug on its hem.<p>

When Carole had realized that he intended to dress for the junior prom at their house, and that the other bathrooms and dressing areas were already occupied by Kurt and Finn, she had graciously allowed him to get ready in the master bedroom suite. Nobody questioned why he had decided to get dressed here, apparently assuming that since Finn had picked up all the discounted tuxedos, he had simply taken the easiest option.

Nobody here knew his parents were unaware of what was going on tonight, and that he wanted them to remain unaware.

Once again, he checked himself in the mirror. Hair perfectly gelled into place, tux completely wrinkle-free and unremarkable. He rubbed his hands against one another, trying to ignore the fact that they were both clammy and sweaty.

Some part of him knew exactly why he had chosen this tux. Completely unremarkable-a tux that looked exactly like the one half the other boys would be wearing, a tux that said nothing about his personality. Clothing was his armor, his way of fitting in despite what he was, his way of protecting himself.

Years ago, he hadn't known how to do that. Or maybe, he hadn't been forced into doing that. When he'd asked Seth to the Sadie Hawkins dance, he'd been young and enthusiastic and naive. He had always been the slightly odd one out, the one who couldn't quite figure out how to step in time with the rest of the boys his age. That year, he'd finally figured it out, not figured out how to fit in, but figured out why he didn't quite fit in. That day, he'd been taught what others did to those who didn't fit in.

Dalton, in many different ways, had become a refuge. Not only with its strict no-bullying policy, but with its uniform and traditions. He'd embraced that uniform, those traditions, lessons in how others expected him to dress, what others expected him to be and how to behave. For the first time in his life, he'd learned to adapt and fit in.

He remembered that first Christmas show, the first time he'd performed with the Warblers in public, the first time his father had come to see him perform. As a freshman, he'd simply been one of many background vocals, blending in perfect harmony while their senior soloists had performed traditional Christmas songs before a full auditorium.

Even his father had noted the difference. "You're really fitting in here, Blaine," he'd commented after Blaine had escaped the post-show celebration to join him for the ride home.

Basking in the post-show adrenaline, having had a few of the older boys remark on the quality of his voice in the performance and speculating on his future with the group, Blaine had to agree. "It's been a good couple of months, dad."

His father had continued staring straight ahead, his fingers loosely holding the steering wheel, his voice casual. "Maybe you don't feel the need to be different."

Those words echoing in his head over two years later, he again tugged at the bottom hem of his tux jacket, a habit formed over years wearing his Dalton blazer. Teacher and administrators at Dalton expected a certain degree of tidiness, a certain amount of formality, and he had never been one to even attempt to customize his uniform. In fact, like most of the Warblers, he generally enjoyed being as perfect as possible.

Yet the first time he'd seen Kurt on that staircase, his jacket somewhat similar yet so different from the strict uniform worn by the Dalton boys, his heart had startled at the difference. He knew that Kurt wasn't a student-the fake uniform was perfect evidence of that. But even while trying to fit in, the boy dressed with such individuality, such personality. Personality like that which Blaine had suppressed under the two and a half years of being a Dalton student. That was why he'd taken him by the hand and lead him to the Warblers performance … his first performance as a soloist, the first performance where he'd stood at the front and shown off his talent rather than blending into the background.

When Kurt left McKinley to attend Dalton, he had been happy that his friend had found safety, but he found some part of himself disappointed. He thought he would see the boy he had found some interest in disappearing into the Dalton uniform, the Dalton traditions, like he had.

But Kurt had never quite buried himself in that same conformity in which Blaine had originally found such comfort. He had certainly tried, but in his every action his own personality came through. From the eye rolls and whispered comments when the Warbler council was being their completely self-absorbed selves, to the times when he'd even called out Blaine, Kurt had never quite figured out a way to fit into the perfectly square hole that Dalton had given him. And when he'd appeared in front of the Warblers, every bit of his individuality on display in his grief for a damned bird, that was when Blaine knew that he couldn't deny what he'd been trying to ignore for so long.

But still, he'd fallen in love with Kurt still partly struggling to be a Dalton boy. A boy struggling to fit in, a boy still trying to be what others wanted of him rather than what he knew himself to be. A boy still trying to figure out how to keep himself safe, trying to force himself to follow the same ways that Blaine had found to keep himself safe.

When Kurt had transferred to Dalton, he'd been wounded and scared, willing to try to change himself in order to try to protect himself. But as Blaine had come to realize, Kurt had too strong a sense of self to hide or change for long.

Some scared part of himself still insisted that he had fallen in love with a Dalton boy, and what Kurt had proven himself to be was anything but. But Blaine knew there were other gay boys at Dalton, other boys he could have fallen in love with, other boys trying to fulfill that particular image of a Dalton boy while also, by the way, being gay. Other boys hiding whatever personality they had under the uniform, under the traditions.

He had fallen in love with Kurt because Kurt had, in the end, refused to do that. Even as Blaine had embraced his own ability to conform, he knew he had fallen for Kurt because he could not.

Blaine looked in the mirror, and for a moment, felt almost ashamed. A few days ago, when Kurt had displayed his handcrafted outfit for prom, two conflicting desires had warred in him. He had suppressed the part of him that wanted to pull Kurt into his lap, run his hands up under that kilt and rid him of those leggings that added that odd modesty to the outfit. The part of him that wouldn't mind if Kurt wanted to wear outfits like that every day, as long as he could see and admire him in those outfits.

Instead, he'd given into his cowardice, the part of him that insisted that they both needed to be safe, that they both needed to conform, that they both needed to hide under some sort of uniform that told the rest of society they were normal, they were nothing to be hated or feared. And Kurt had immediately forgiven him that, had offered him an out, a way to withdraw gracefully without Kurt compromising who he knew he needed to be.

Even while he stood staring in the mirror at his own uniform, his own disguise, he knew why he hadn't taken that out Kurt had offered.

He hadn't fallen in love with a Dalton boy. He had fallen in love with Kurt because no matter how hard he tried, Kurt couldn't be a Dalton boy. Kurt was everything he wished he could be, everything he had tried to make himself not be.

A knock on the door brought him back to the moment. He pulled it open, finding Carole smiling on the other side.

"Are you ready? Kurt is waiting in the living room. Finn has already gone to pick up Quinn."

He ran his hands down the pants one final time, gave his jacket a tug. "Thanks, I'm ready."

He followed her to the living room, where he found Kurt standing by the fireplace, every fold of his jacket and kilt perfect. Kurt smiled at him, then reached for a plastic container sitting on top the mantel.

"Blaine, I bought these for us, but you don't have to wear one if you don't want to …"

He looked at the two matching pink flowers that Kurt held, and knew that this was a moment. A moment when he could again decide to be a coward, or decide to finally start to figure himself out. "Could you pin it on for me, please?"

Kurt's smile grew brighter, if that was at all possible, and he answered "Certainly." Blaine held himself still as Kurt reached toward him to pin it onto his lapel, ignoring the slight tremble in Kurt's hands that made him fumble just that little bit, made the process take that slightest bit longer than it should.

And when he pinned the other on Kurt, he also ignored the slight tremble that shook his own hands.


End file.
